


Animalistic Adoration

by Dirtcore Dreams (NakedEye)



Series: Upon Request [16]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Animalistic derek, Body Worship, Breeding, Dirty Sex, Established Relationship, FTM Stiles Stilinski, Farting, Food, Food Kink, Food Sex, Knotting, M/M, Marathon Sex, Oral Sex, Rimming, Scat, Scent Kink, Scent Marking, Scents & Smells, Schlubby boyfriends, Smegma, Sweat, Trans Stiles Stilinski, Watersports, musk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 17:55:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19932115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NakedEye/pseuds/Dirtcore%20Dreams
Summary: Derek and Stiles only get to see each other on the weekends, but they'll be damned if they're not gonna make the most of it.





	Animalistic Adoration

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Winter_Reader](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winter_Reader/gifts).



> Hey there, this one definitely deserves a big warning. I went pretty hard in the paint, harder than I usually do. So if you're not like for sure into scat, you shouldn't read this one. The boys are big, dirty shit pigs in this one, so. Don't say I didn't tell you.

Stiles can’t think of anything better than making it to the weekend. There’s nothing that fills him with more relief, that drives him to finish his work out stronger. It’s better than dipping into a cold pool on a hot day. It’s better than getting a foot massage after a hike. It’s better than his favorite team winning or perfectly hitting the dollar at the gas station.

Because the weekends belong to him and Derek. Together. He can leave college essays behind and workday lunches with his dad and dinner plans with his friends. They’re not gonna go anywhere or see anyone but each other, and that’s exactly how he likes it. Derek has a huge, gorgeous apartment, a fully stocked fridge, subscriptions to every viewing service and video game package there is on the market.

He’s officially settled in. To himself, to Beacon Hills. To being a workaday person and not on the run from everything in the known universe. His muscles are marbled with some fat these days. His scruff is rarely neat. He likes to wear shirts with holes in them and the same sweatpants almost everywhere. He’s heart meltingly cute and grumpy and a total hermit that sweeps Stiles up in his arms and will only let him go once Monday morning comes.

Stiles loves it. He loves being squirreled away, making a little world of their own, not having to deal with anything but the pure id of what they want together. Tonight is kicking off with a full dozen donuts, Nick Cage movies, and both of them having been edging and swapping pics all day long, telling each other how bad they want it, how good it’s gonna be when they’re finally together again.

By the time Stiles gets his keys in the door and throws his shit on the floor, Derek’s already naked on the couch. His cock is soft but drooling a steady flow of precum onto the floor. His boyfriend’s knuckles are coated with his own slick, his beard littered with crumbs, his ass leaving skids in the fabrics as he moves around on the couch.

Stiles is hit in the face with a rich, dank, dirty scent that makes his mouth salivate. Derek became one with his wolf in so many more ways than anyone would know. Only Stiles got to see the true animal that he became. The beast that pissed in the corners of his house to mark territory, that never washed, that loved to snuffle at dirty asses and knot anything that moved.

Stiles shed his clothes as Derek simply through his head back and moaned for him, watching with hungry eyes as the boy revealed his lanky, hairy form. Stiles hadn’t been able to get as filthy as Derek, but he’d skipped his last two showers at least. His hair was greasy, the creases of his thighs grungy. His thick, soppy bush was coated in leftover piss and slick, his pussy sloppy and swollen and so thoroughly fucked out.

He threw his socks across the room as he scurried over, smirking when Derek scooped them up to sniff and suck at the once white fabric, now grey yellow with his funk. The wolf’s eyes rolled in his head and his cock spit a little. “Miss me, big guy? Thought I’d left you enough treats to get you by.”

Scattered around Derek were yellowed, fraying jocks, crunchy briefs with worn out leg holes, thongs where the string was completely stained a spicy brown. But his cock looked like he’d been beating it all day without blowing-- swollen and snotty and red. “Looks like you could use a little sugar, huh?” Stiles joked, popping open the box of donuts and kneeling by Derek’s side.

The wolf’s head pricked up at the sound, tossing aside the socks and waiting for Stiles to pluck a single glazed ring. Stiles toyed with it just a second, wafting it around to let the scents of oil and sugar mix with the filth that hung so heavy. As soon as Derek licked his lips, he relented though, mashing the delicate dessert into a ball in his fist and then cramming the whole thing in Derek’s mouth in one bite.

Derek’s eyelids fluttered and he groaned as he mashed at it, make an even bigger mess of his beard. “Got you a whole assortment, babe. Wanna taste you sweating out the grease. Gonna stuff your sexy belly full. Chocolate and maple. Boston cream. Jelly filled. Fritters. Buttermilk bars. You’re gonna eat every last one. I got a couple for me too. But you’ll eat them later, huh baby? Taste em second hand once I’ve had my fill. You’ll love that.”

Derek sucks his fingers clean, stares into Stiles’ eyes with a dark, desperate hunger, slowly nodding his head. “You want a little taste, baby? Just an appetizer to really get you going?” Stiles purrs, rubbing Derek’s chest, then his belly, coming down to card through his dense, dirty pubes and ogle the truly obscene heft of his cock and balls.

The guy is hung, in every sense of the word. Fat and long and with the most delicious, uneven set of hangers you’ve ever seen. Stiles idly takes hold of him, slowly slides his foreskin back, grins as he reveals layers of sticky, smelly cheese. Derek rarely washes under there, collects piss and cum and sweat and Stiles’ ass funk. It’s such a complex, cultivated taste, odor. One they both adore.

Stiles licks his lips, runs the tip of his nose up and down the length, audibly inhales so Derek knows he’s breathing in every pungent fume. He gently plucks one of the donuts from the box, hefts himself over Derek’s frame-- top to bottom-- wriggles into place so his face is right at the wolf’s groin, ass being tickled by Derek’s beard.

He crows the cock in his hand with the pastry, loves that it flakes around Derek’s dickhead, leaves a trail of sticky sugar all along the shaft. Smegma catches onto the rim, leaves little specks of pungent, salty gunk to cut through the richness. Stiles leaves it there for a moment as he kisses at Derek’s swollen, dirty glands. Sticky pre coats his lips in a shiny gloss. Derek’s cock fills with even more blood. He soothes the feverish flesh and teases his wolf long enough that Derek growls at him, lunges forward to nip at his floppy pussy lips.

He chuckles, wiggles his hips to make them flap a little, fan the funky scent at Derek to calm him down. “Just wait, baby. Know I like it when the heat from your nuts melts that glaze.” And sure enough, the donut has started to sweat. Sugar beads and rolls down it, matting in Derek’s pubes and leaving streaks down his balls. Stiles grins, kitten licks at them for a moment, gets Derek to buck at him.

He grins before finally moving to take a bite from his dessert, accompanying it with a long, broad lick up Derek’s cock. The salt mixes with the sweet. Dirty funk cuts through fried yeast. Like a strong cheese being paired with sweet jam, Stiles loves pastry circling fetid dick. He moans, chews his bite, goes back for another, and another. He fellates Derek’s dick with cheeks filled with donut.

Bits of it escape his lip, get caught in Derek’s foreskin. Precum almost overpowers the glaze. The scent of sweat fills his nostrils and as he hums he presses back into Derek’s face and rips a long, blustering fart. His hips get grabbed tightly, his whole body yanked backwards, Derek snarling as he mashes his face in Stiles’ ass.

His thick beard is at once soft and gritty. His tongue is long and warm and sloppy. Teeth grow long and sharp and Derek pulls his cheeks apart almost harsh enough to hurt. Stiles grunts, bares down to blow him another, dirtier one, letting Derek __taste it.__ “Just you wait, babe. Gonna gorge myself tonight and in a few hours, you’ll be getting a lot more than that.”

Derek swaps between his ass and his cunt, grinding his face in circles to smear his skin equally between sweaty ass, unwashed pussy, filth between the both. “Gotta take turns though,” Stiles admonishes, pulling away and climbing back off the couch. Derek looks debauched already. His hair is messy, sweaty. His lips are swollen. His eyes are wild and his chest is heaving. But Stiles is nowhere close to done. “Eat up babe. You’re feeding me first.”

Stiles grabs another donut and is none too careful with shoving it in Derek’s mouth. Sugar sticks to both of them, Derek is left scrambling after the crumbs, and while he’s busy, Stiles opens up his legs, pulls him forward so his ass is positioned right on the edge of the couch. “Been saving it up like I asked you to?” Stiles already knows the answer, but asks anyway, using his thumbs to part Derek’s fat, hairy cheeks and get a peek at the hole between.

Shit is layered all around it. Drier, lighter bits are caught in his ass hair, flaking with his movement. But at the wrinkled center it’s dark and wet and tacky. Fresh. Derek answers him simply with a burbly, wet fart so rank it can only mean he’s barely kept a dump inside him. Stiles chews his lips as he breathes it in, trying to be patient, to pace himself as he tells Derek to grab another donut, to not stop eating. He does as he’s told, but now his attention is focused downward, the eating merely an afterthought as Stiles leans forward, breath hitching as he gets closer and closer to the ring of muscle.

Derek’s so humid down here, so hot and musky. It coats the back of his tongue just as he’s breathing and he makes this high pitched, almost hurt sound as he presses his lips to the mess, immediately feels it smear across his skin, leave a dank, dirty stain. Derek moans and with even just that amount of sensation loses control.

A turd that must have been turtling this whole time gushes out-- wet and crackling and so fucking warm. Stiles doesn’t even have time to react, just moans as it slaps him on its way out before falling into his lap. He immediately burrows forward, burying his face beetween Derek’s cheek as the avalanche continues. His hands fumble below him, searching for the stray shit, and when he finds it, mashes it between his fingers much like the donut.

It’s soft and thick and he smears it against his belly, combs it through his bush. This is their natural state. This is how he always wants to be. This is what they’re like, just to the two of them, with no one to judge and the freedom to love how they wish. He rubs his face over and over, like Derek had done earlier, coating it in his boyfriend’s fresh, hearty dump.

Stiles collects it in his hands, mucks it up Derek’s torso, clumps it on his cock and balls and then starts jacking the wolf off with it. The sounds it makes are meaty and hedonistic and the filthy scent dominates the air. Derek starts fucking up into his muddy fist, food half in and half out his mouth, getting his own hands in the mess and dragging it up his neck, massaging it into his beard.

His fat, fetid nuts start to draw up and Stiles gives no pause before he starts shooting, striping his shit with opalescent spunk. It doesn’t mix with the dung easily, a different consistency, stringy and viscous. Instead it creates marble swirls, cuts through the earthy dank with a salty musk. Stiles dives forward to taste some of it, running his tongue across Derek’s stained piss slit, cleaning bits of his cock, making a slurry in his mouth.

After the roiling peak, they come down for a moment, settling just a little. The first time is always rushed, always clawing and desperate and chasing the finish line more than anything else. But it’s just their warmup. They have the whole weekend ahead of them to savor it all. Stiles crawls up Derek’s body, chuckles as the wolf nuzzles at his filthy face, peppers him with kisses, sucks on his shit smeared tongue. “God, you really know how to treat a guy right, you know that?” Derek sounds so fucking moonstruck it sends tingles down Stiles’ spine.

“He speaks!” Stiles cries, laughing silently and propping himself up against Derek’s chest, idly rubbing their groins together, tingling as Derek’s nasty cock presses between his pussy lips. “I thought you were too far gone already, wouldn’t get to hear that lovely voice till after you’d knotted me and pumped my guts full of your shitty baby batter.”

Derek shakes his head, rolls his eyes, strokes gentle fingers down Stiles’ back. “I’ve had to take a dump for the past eight hours and blow a load the last six! You didn’t think I’d get just a little worked up?” They rub their noses along each other, twine their legs, curl their toes and both let go at the same time as they douse each other in piss.

“Gotta do everything I can to try and drive a wolf wild, don’t I?” Derek kisses him and kisses him and kisses him.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, we’re just getting started.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was a gift for a friend over on ko-fi. If you like this kind of content or just my writing, come on and hang out with me over on twitter @DirtcoreD


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